Devil in the Blue Dress
by Kihin Ranno
Summary: Kunzite has an epiphany about lyrics and women's clothing.


Devil in the Blue Dress  
Written for the Fanfic100 Challenge on LiveJournal  
#15 - Blue  
by Kihin Ranno  
1/1

_Wearin' her perfume, Chanel No. 5  
Got to be the finest girl alive  
She walks real cool, catches everybody's eye  
She's got such good lovin' that they can't say goodbye  
Not too skinny, she's not too fat  
She's a real humdinger and I like it like that  
She's the devil with the blue dress_

He had always wondered why the devil had decided to wear a blue dress in that song.

It hadn't made sense to him for quite some time. Of all the colors in the spectrum, blue seemed the least likely to appeal to a demon. Even if red and black really were clichéd, they were for a reason. And orange was still close to the hue of flames. Purple could hint at royal status. Green was evocative of greed and jealousy; brown of decay and death. And every hybrid in between could be accounted for. But blue? He had never been able to make sense of it. 

But now he understood why such a dress would have appealed to the erotic succubus. Blue was innocuous. Blue was familiar. Blue was safe. One wouldn't automatically expect a soul-stealing master of evil to be wandering around in a blue dress when red leather pants would have presumably been much more appealing. 

It all made perfect sense to him as he stared at Minako across the table, blonde hair swept up to reveal her neck, rouge perfectly applied, pale legs crossed and sticking out underneath the skirt of her blue dress. He was briefly awed by her, turning a common look into something arresting and making every male in the restaurant pause and give her at least one looking over. And she made it seem effortless, though he knew it was practiced – calculated for his benefit. 

He couldn't help but feel a bit smug and give those other men a cool glance when he found the opportunity. 

He had to admit, she was good at what she did. She made even the tiniest movement seem intensely erotic, and he was glad he was not a man prone to readable facial expression for that reason. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, twirling her ankle to stretch her calf muscle, humming a secret tune to herself to fill the current silence – all of it was being done in the pursuit of one purpose and one purpose only. 

He reached for his glass, grateful that he always took water with his wine. 

She glanced up at him through lashes stained coal black from mascara. Some of them were sticking together, and he decided he should focus on this flaw in her appearance to avoid from leaping across the table at her. Not that he needed it, but it helped. She smiled at him, lips and irises glittering in the candlelight. "You seem pensive." 

He swallowed, wiping at the corner of his mouth with his thumb discreetly. "Sorry. Got caught up in my thoughts." 

She laughed, on pitch with bells he only heard around Christmastime. "Don't apologize for thinking. I find it refreshing compared to… others." 

She had meant it in jest, but he still felt sadness for her previous experiences and annoyance at how so many other men had failed to meet the simple expectation of not being complete idiots. "Still, it's inconsiderate. I know how you feel about silence." 

She shrugged, the rise and fall of her shoulders briefly exposing the bruise he had left on her clavicle the night before. "The couple at the next table talking about whether or not he enjoyed his tryst with his _male_ secretary was entertaining enough." She took a sip of her wine, punctuating the joke and giving him time chuckle at it. "What were you thinking about?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that a ploy for a compliment?" 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes cutely. "Please, I'm not that insecure," she chided, clearly not thinking about whether or not that was actually true. She ran her fingertips over the chain of her necklace, drawing attention to her throat, which he very much wanted to bite. "Besides, that's underestimating you. I was actually asking." 

He considered her for a moment and found her words sincere even if her body was doing something very different. Eventually he responded, his face perfectly blank. "How that dress looks. And how much better it would look on my floor." 

He was pleased to see that he still had the talent to surprise, amuse, embarrass, and arouse her at the same time. Her pink cheeks turned pinker, her sculpted eyebrow arched, and the corner of her mouth twitched. She didn't say anything to him, but she asked for the check when the waiter passed by. 

Several minutes later, they were spinning against a wall, his hands on her waist and her arms around his neck. He could see her blue skirt flying on the wind out of the corner of his eye. And when he dipped his head to sink his teeth into her neck, he heard her sing in his ear. 

_"Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress on. Devil with the blue dress on."_


End file.
